Page 380 of The Romance Adventure

But I’m not alone for more than a minute for the rest of the night. Not only did Isla and Royal go all out decorating, but they also have an axe-throwing contest, a pumpkin carving station, and a rock-climbing wall illuminated with glowing green lights.

If I can’t function as a covert operative, I may as well have fun tonight. When I get three axes in the center of the target in a row, and everyone comments on my accuracy, I realize I should scale back.

Turning my hands toward the air, I say, “Beginner’s luck?”

For the next hours, CJ and I make jack-o’-lanterns, agree to take a tour of the haunted hotel room, and pass around “feel boxes.” The idea is to stick your hand in without looking and try to correctly identify eyeballs (they’re grapes), guts (spaghetti), and other creepy items.

We wind up in the ballroom, dancing to the monster mash. It’s quite a different scene than when we met in Malaga, but the way CJ smiles at me makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the room. After a life of being relatively invisible to the people who were supposed to love me, it feels good.

Even if it’s built on a lie.

I don’t want to think about how this is going to turn out. But when the next song starts with a blood-curdling scream before dropping into a solid boogie, I’m having my doubts.

A slow song comes on, and CJ pulls me close. We glide to the haunting tune, and after all the excitement today, my pulse finally slows. It falls into rhythm with his.

CJ whispers, “We never came up with pirate names. I’d be Ruthless Winthrop. How about you?”

With a laugh, I say, “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Hmm. You seem like Renegade Ruth.”

“We can’t both have Ruth in our names.”

He laughs. “If we were in spy costumes, what would your code name be? What could you tell me?”

I snort a laugh, then meet his questioning gaze. “This isn’t about Ruth, is it? It’s about the truth.”

He taps his nose, whether to indicate he knows more than I think he does or as an affirmation that I’m on the right track, I’m not sure.

Looking around to make sure the Nosy Roseys aren’t lurking nearby—Lally told me all about them when we were waiting for CJ to surface earlier—I whisper, “I was not part of Operation Night Wing.”

“Hmm. But my sources say you were involved in the Bully Bank Run and the Stockholm Sting.”

Of course, these are made up. This is a game. Anyway, Night Wing never took flight.

But CJ is fishing, and I’m not sure he’s going to like what he catches.

I lead him off the dancefloor and we find a quiet corner. “The truth is, one of my clients was talking about the Cartagena Catch. Having as many connections around Europe as I do, I got in on it.”

“Treasure fever.”

“I got in deep,” I add. “Before I knew it, I had the names and information of anyone who might also be seeking it. I thought to myself, so many people have sought this treasure themselves. Why not aggregate what everyone knows? My plan was to leverage the information they’d already collected, add it to mine, and be the victor.”

“And I was a person on your list.”

I nod. “I did follow you, hoping to glean some useful information. But as you said, the treasure was a diversion.”

CJ laces his arms around me and says, “Instead, you walked into another treasure hunt.”

I nod because the story is true, but I left the part out about how I specifically searched for people who were also somehow connected to the Lost Crown of Tears. Surprisingly, Captain J didn’t cross my radar.

“So, it’s a win-win,” CJ says.

“I suppose so.”

Then why do I feel like the loser?

But not for long.